


swing with me

by andorgyny



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andorgyny/pseuds/andorgyny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then he sees her. She’s young, maybe nineteen or twenty, and utterly beautiful. She and her friends sing and dance to the new jazz hits from America, showing off their legs in short skirts that come to their calves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	swing with me

He was a soldier, an officer during the war. He was once a professor. Taught young men (and some women) their physics, kept their minds sharp. Barely older than his students, he’d been.

And now he’s got nothing. Just a tired old man in a young man’s body who lives on his own in a little flat in London, a scientist without method. He has his work, his research on astrophysics, to keep him company. But he is alone. And lonely.

He visits the park, watches the pigeons as they take flight when little children make chase. He reads his book or shuts his eyes and leans back in the park bench, just listening to the bustle of the city, praying to a God he doesn’t quite believe in that there will be some respite from the constant noise in his head.

And then he sees her. She’s young, maybe nineteen or twenty, and utterly beautiful. She and her friends sing and dance to the new jazz hits from America, showing off their legs in short skirts that come to their calves. 

She’s got short blonde curls and dark amber eyes, the sort he could fall into. And she’s glorious, she’s a goddess in a yellow dress dancing on the pavement with a dark-skinned man. He loathes racism, thinks it’s barbaric as hell, but it’s still a surprise to him.

The man whispers something in her ear and she giggles, looking over at him with interest glittering in her eyes.

He says nothing to her until one day when she plops herself down beside him on his park bench and introduces herself as—

"Rose Tyler."

He’s stunned. Her voice is rough, like a working class girl’s voice, though she dresses to the nines each time he sees her. “John Smith. Er, Doctor John Smith.”

She smiles. “It’s a pleasure to meet ya, Doctor.” She leans in enough that he catches a whiff of her perfume. “Between you and me, I think I might be needing a doctor.”

"Well, I’m not that kind of doctor, I’m afraid."

"So what kind are you, then?"

He scratches at the cover of his book. “I’m an astrophysicist. I study the physics of the universe.”

"So you’re a star gazer, are you? Isn’t that a bit fanciful?" she asks, tongue between her teeth, and he immediately knows that she’s pulling his chain.

She makes him feel bold. “Perhaps,” he says. “But then it’s a hell of a lot quieter out there than it is down here.”

"Sometimes you just need to get away," she replies. He meets her eyes, gazes at the flecks of gold hiding in her irises. 

"Yeah."

 

Rose takes him to a nightclub where they play raucous jazz and serve cocktails all night long. She holds his hand as she leads him onto the dance floor and grins up at him. 

"Come on," she laughs when he resists. "The world doesn’t end ‘cause the Doctor dances."

And then she’s off, and they’re off, stepping this way and that, and this is that new dance isn’t it, the Charleston, and there’s sweat and something like hope fluttering in his chest, and she’s warm in his arms, all flushed beauty with her beads and eyeliner.

They smell like alcohol when they leave, alcohol and smoke. She lights a cigarette. Inhales, exhales. They walk to his place, hand in hand, just laughing and talking about nothing at all. Or everything, he’s not sure.

She undresses in his kitchen and hops up on the counter in her knickers, bare breasts bouncing with each movement. He’s charmed, and a little drunk, so he reaches out and slides his fingers down her chest, down her abdomen, until he reaches where she’s wet and warm against his hand. 

They’ve not even kissed, but she’s moaning and tugging on his hair as he suckles at her breast, fingers furiously rubbing her clit beneath her knickers and slipping inside of her, and it’s been so long for him, so long since Romana died and then she clenches around his fingers, sobbing out her climax to the ceiling.

She pulls him to her by his tie and presses her lips to his neck. “You’re wonderful,” she murmurs. “Now take off your clothes.”

He grins. He unbuttons his suit jacket; she loosens his tie. Slips her hand into his trousers as he slips out of his shirt and squeezes him through his pants. He groans, bucking his hips into her warm sweet hand. 

"Bedroom?" she asks. He points down the hall; she takes his hand and leads the way. Her knickers and his trousers come off somewhere along the way. 

"You got the moves?" she asks, giggling as they fall onto the bed. "Show me your moves."

He slides in so easily, he nearly weeps. She’s all curves where he is angles, and yet they fit so very well together. It’s never been like this before.

She drags her legs up behind his back. It’s more wonderful, more brilliant, better than physics and bananas and Friday nights alone in a dark flat. He thrusts and she bucks and they rock together, moaning and sighing and gasping and crying out for release.

And then he hits a particularly good angle, apparently, because she begins to pant and beg, and it’s wet and hot and tight and—

She comes, sobbing into his pillow and massaging his cock with her clenching muscles, and he can’t possibly imagine a more delicious sight than her in orgasm, not the stars, not the moon, not Venus herself. He pumps a few final times before he falls, losing himself in his climax. 

When he comes back to himself, she’s already fitting herself into his side, snug and secure with her head on his chest. ”Well, those are some moves,” she mumbles.

He looks at her. “Stay with me.”

She smiles. “Okay.”


End file.
